


Breakfast & A Bond

by rei_c



Series: Stiles Stilinski: Vongola Sky [3]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Sky Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 10:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16344767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rei_c/pseuds/rei_c
Summary: School's out for summer and Stiles needs to tell his dad he's spending his vacation in Italy. Leaving is a bit more complicated than he expected.





	Breakfast & A Bond

Stiles goes through the motions during his last week of school; it's mostly exams that he could ace in his sleep, thankfully, so no one notices. That hurts, a little -- that no one notices -- but Scott's still mourning Allison, Lydia and Jackson are wrapped up in each other, and Erica, Boyd, and Isaac are doing their little leather trio thing again. Erica does look like she wants to talk to Stiles every so often but Stiles is good at evasion and he makes sure they're never alone long enough for even the idea of a bond to build up between them. He's not going to take anything more from Derek, he's determined, and, anyway, he's got too much on his mind. 

Dad's working all the time thanks to what Matt did so Xanxus pretty much moves in, spends all evening and half the night going over things with Stiles: the hierarchy of allied families, the current treaties, present-day standards. Stiles tries to remember everything his mom told him and the things he remembers she very pointedly didn't; Xanxus says that Stiles knows or can intuit far too much for a civilian and that perhaps Claudia knew he'd activate a flame eventually. 

Stiles doesn't like to think about that. 

He doesn't like to think about the conversation he's going to have with his dad, either, so he puts it off Friday night, when the sheriff takes Stiles out for celebratory end-of-school-year pizza. On Saturday morning, after a string of texts from Xanxus, Stiles leaves his bedroom with a deep inhale and heads down to the kitchen. He makes pancakes and scrambled egg-whites and turkey bacon, sets everything down on the table, sits in front of his empty plate, and says, "We need to talk." 

Dad stops cutting the pancakes he'd just grabbed, puts down his fork, asks, mildy, "Are you finally going to tell me what you've been lying about for the past few months?" 

"No," Stiles says, "it's about something else. Uh. It's -- it's about mom." Dad's face makes an expression that Stiles has never seen before and Stiles is quick to say, "It's not bad! Honest! I think. Not about being honest but about it not being bad. It's just -- some stuff happened, y'know, and things have changed -- not changed-bad, changed-in-general, and I -- um." 

"Start from the beginning," dad says. 

Stiles makes a face, says, "I'll start from a month ago, definitely not the beginning, we'd be here for -- yeah. So. How much -- how much did mom tell you about her family? Like, not necessarily what they are but what they -- no, I guess what they are, not what they do, though it's all kind of related, so I'm not --" 

Dad reaches across the table, puts his hand over Stiles', a subtle method of interruption that Stiles clings to. No matter how much time he's spent thinking, Stiles just doesn't know how best to approach this conversation. He doesn't want to. He wants to go back down into that basement and activate a different flame. He wants to have never pulled Scott into that forest for Peter to bite. He wants his mom to be from an ordinary family.

"She told me her family didn't have the best reputation," dad says. "She implied that they were mafia-related and that she made a clean break away from them. I've done some digging of my own over the years -- cautious digging, Stiles, I'm not stupid," dad interjects, seeing Stiles' face, "so I know they _are_ mafia, not just adjacent. But other than that? They keep a pretty low profile. Why do you want to know?" 

"The head of the family, it's a position that descends through blood," Stiles says. "Mom was -- she was never -- but there -- in additional to being a bloodline descendent, there are requirements to be leader. Requirements which, a month ago, I suddenly met." Dad squeezes Stiles' hand a little tighter, nods for Stiles to keep going. "They sent over their -- I'm not sure how to describe him, actually, but he's my cousin. He came to talk. They have -- the heir-apparent, he doesn't want the job. And I'm the only other choice, now that I can inherit." 

Dad blinks. "They want you to become the head of a mafia family," he says, blankly. 

Stiles nods, snakes his hand out from under his dad's. He drops his hands to his lap, fidgets with a couple loose strings hanging from the bottom of his shirt. "Yeah," he says. "They're -- I mean, I already know Italian, thanks to mom, so the language barrier won't be a problem, but I need to -- I have to spend the summer in Italy. I've asked them to let me come back for the school year, since the other heir still lives in Japan, but I need to learn how the family works, what's expected of me, make some allies, and I can't do that here." 

"You are not going to become the head of a mafia family," dad says. "Stiles, you -- this is just -- this is ridiculous. You're -- you're my son, the son of a _sheriff_ , and you make a better deputy than half the people in my station. You want to join the FBI! This is -- this is exactly the opposite. You can't just -- the _mafia_ , Stiles. Your mother risked everything to get away from them and you're just going to let them pull you back in because they said you met some tenuous requirements? What _are_ these requirements?"

"I'm not going to tell you," Stiles says. 

Dad's jaw clenches. "Fine. You don't have to, since you're not going." 

Stiles sighs, says, "I sort of --"

"You aren't going," dad says, interrupting. "I'm your father and your legal guardian. You're under eighteen; they can't take you without my permission and I'm not giving it. They can't _make_ you, Stiles. Mafia, fine, whatever, but they can't make you."

"Actually," Stiles says, "they could. But they asked and I agreed. So if you don't -- dad, please don't -- please just let me go. I'll be back! We already have the date picked out and you know I won't let them --" 

Dad stands up, chair screeching on the floor as it slides back. "Never," he says. "I will never agree to this." 

Stiles nods, says, "Yeah, I -- I kind of thought you'd say that." He looks up, past dad and over to the back door, where Xanxus and a Varia mist just walked in. "But you don't really have a choice." 

"What do you --" dad starts to say, stops and wavers on his feet. Stiles hangs his head as the mist does his job and changes dad's mind for him. 

Xanxus comes over, puts one hand on Stiles' shoulder, asks, "Are you packed? We're ready to go if you are." 

Stiles stands up, heads for the stairs. "Yeah," he says. "I'm ready." 

"Vongola," the mist calls. Stiles pauses on the bottom of the steps, hand clutching the banister. "We'll take care of him. He'll be in good hands."

"Good hands," Stiles says, over his shoulder, "but not mine. If anything happens to him, I won't kill you. I'll obliterate even the _memory_ of you. Understand?"

He doesn't need to turn and see what look is gracing the mist's face. It's clear enough in his voice as he says, "I understand, Vongola." 

\--

Stiles comes down with a backpack on, a duffel bag in each hand, and his pillow under his arm. Xanxus opens the front door and Stiles gets halfway to the car before a voice calls out, "Not even gonna say goodbye, Stiles?" 

He can feel Xanxus' attention focus to a pinprick on the people standing across the street; Stiles sets down his bags and steps back, closer to Xanxus, putting a hand on Xanxus' arm to keep them both calm. 

"Didn't think I needed to," Stiles calls back. Erica and Boyd exchange glances, cross the street without looking. Derek follows them, slower, reluctant, with Isaac at his side. 

"I'm hurt, Batman," Erica says. She stops when she's just outside of touching distance, looks perfectly put-together, but there's something about her that makes Stiles stop because she means it. She's honestly hurt that he'd been planning on leaving without telling her. 

Stiles brushes his fingers over Xanxus' arm, knows Derek's honed in on that movement, and then steps forward, wraps Erica up in a patented Stilinski hug. She doesn't move, not at first, but when she gives into it, clings back, breathes him in and leaves her scent on him, she does it with her whole heart. 

Even her soul, Stiles realises, a moment later, as he feels the first beginnings of a guardian bond form -- nothing strong, it's tentative at best, but it's there. 

"You didn't mention this, cousin," Xanxus says. "'One potential, possibly,' you said. This is not a possible potential. This is a strong compatibility." 

"She's not mine to take," Stiles replies, in Italian so that the pack can't understand him. "I wouldn't take anyone from Derek, not when he --" and Stiles trails off. 

He lets go of Erica, steps back, and pushes back on the bond as well, turns it away with a wistful caress. Erica staggers, eyes flaring beta-gold, and she puts one hand over her heart, tears welling up in her eyes. "Stiles," she says. "What did you --"

She stops at the same time Derek moves, fangs and claws out, eyes red, leaping to Erica's defense and for Stiles' throat. Stiles shields himself and Xanxus but he sees Xanxus lift a hand, flames answering his call, and Stiles stands between Xanxus and Derek, shouts, "No fire!" 

Derek stops, almost mid-stride, and Xanxus shoves Stiles out of the way, says, "Idiot Vongola," in Italian. "I'm meant to protect you; you call this protection? The wolf jumped." 

"And I shielded," Stiles says, gesturing at the orange-warped air flickering around them. "He's not getting through that." 

"Would anything?" Xanxus asks. Stiles shakes his head in confusion and Xanxus scoffs, says, "You just turned away one of the most naturally-compatible guardian bonds I've ever seen, cousin. Will you reject them all? Will you let anything through that shield?" 

Stiles bares his teeth, says, "I let you, didn't I? _Cousin_." 

Xanxus stares, finally says, "You have your mother's bite." 

That makes Stiles deflate, all his anger and rage gone just like that. "I can't take her with me," Stiles says. "She belongs here, with her pack." 

"Are you coming back?" The question makes Stiles blink. He'd almost forgotten that the pack was standing there. He turns, looks at Derek, who's wearing his human face again, arms crossed over his chest. "Or is this for good?" 

"He'll be back, _lupo_ ," Xanxus says. "In time for the next school year." 

Erica glances at Boyd, who nods, and Isaac, who looks away. She turns to Derek, then, says, "It's just for the summer, Derek. You guys can handle things without me for eight weeks. Right?" 

"No," Stiles says. Everyone looks at him, Xanxus with a grin on his face and Erica with a scowl, and Stiles straightens his shoulders, tilts up his chin. "You're not coming with me, Erica."

"Yes," Erica says, "I am. Right, Derek?" 

Stiles shakes his head, tells Derek, "She's not," and picks up his pillow, his duffel bags. He makes it to the SUV Xanxus has been driving around, throws his stuff in the back. 

"He called me wolf," Derek says. Stiles, just about to open the passenger door, pauses. "And you called him cousin. Does he know about us?" 

"I do," Xanxus says. "Stiles told me everything that's happened here." 

Stiles moves, slow, to take everything in: Erica, at Derek's side, giving him a pleading look; Isaac, uncomfortable; Boyd, a little too narrow-eyed and considering for Stiles' taste; Derek and Xanxus, watching each other. Everything feels strange, like it's balancing on a knife's edge, and in the silence and stillness, Stiles can feel it again, the tentative call of Erica's soul, the offered bond now clouded with desperation, a need to understand why it's being rejected. 

"I can have someone smooth it over with her parents," Xanxus offers. There's a growl; it takes Stiles a moment to realise the noise is coming from him, not from any of the wolves. "Cousin," Xanxus says, sounds exasperated now as he takes his eyes off of Derek and moves them to Stiles. "Trust me. Please." 

"She doesn't have a flame," Stiles tells Xanxus, eyes flaring orange. "She's a _wolf_ ; if anything, she'd bond better with an Earth. And she has a bond to her alpha," he adds. 

Xanxus shrugs one shoulder, says, "We can see if she has a latent flame. Even if she doesn't, a bond to her will keep you stable long enough to amass the traditional flame-guardians." 

Stiles throws his hands up in frustration. 

"I don't want to -- it's not that I'm leaving you, Derek," Erica says. "You're my alpha. You'll always be my alpha. But I just -- I feel like I have to go with Stiles. I need to. Please, Derek. Please let me go with him. Alpha, _please_." 

Stiles hates feeling railroaded, hates being cornered into doing things he doesn't want, but -- but he can feel the promise of that bond, still, and if Derek agrees, he's not going to be able to resist it. 

Derek looks at Stiles, Stiles looks at Derek, and it's another one of those silent conversations, the kind they've had only a handful of times, another one of those moments when everything between them that matters is laid bare, when their minds are in sync and their hearts beat as one. 

"Oh god," Xanxus says, faintly. "You didn't say anything about _that_."

"You swear you're coming back," Derek says. 

Stiles nods. "First week of August," he says. "We've already settled on the date and they know I'll level whatever I need to if they break their end of the deal." 

Derek takes a deep breath. "Fine," he says. "Erica can go." 

Erica flings her arms around Derek and starts thanking him, but all Stiles can feel is his sky pouring out of him to reach Erica's offered bond. His vision goes grey, his legs turn boneless, and Xanxus props him up, is right there as if he knew this was coming. A moment later -- it feels like a moment later, could be longer -- Erica's hugging him, and that's when the bond anchors tight. Stiles clings to Erica, buries his face in her neck, and she throws her head back and _howls_.


End file.
